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Posted by on Apr 22, 2013 in Blog, Essays, Personal, Politics, Travel | 0 comments

The African Interviews (Part 1)

africa-map

 

Note:  Today and tomorrow, I’ll be sharing three stories.  Each shares a connection to Africa.  They’re all deeply personal.  And until now, I’ve never written about them.

 

Out of Africa

Question:  What’s the world’s second-most-populous continent?

If you saw today’s headline, you probably guessed it.  The answer is Africa.

More than one billion people live in Africa, which is more than the entire population of Europe.  There are two-and-a-half times as many Africans as North Americans.  Imagine 25 Californias.  That’s Africa.

Africa also happens to be the second-largest continent in the world.  It has one-fifth of all the landmass on earth.

There are 54 African nations and I’ll bet most people can’t pinpoint more than a small fraction of them on a map.  I had this deficiency once too (and still do), as you’re about to learn.

Indeed, of all the places on Earth, Africa is the least understood, the most misunderstood, and the littlest-known in every sense — politically, geographically, socially, culturally, and historically.

Practically no one amongst us knows anything about Africa or its people, and this includes many otherwise intelligent people who know considerably more about every other region of the world.

It seems that even among the most educated, Africa is forgotten.

*     *     *

African Interview #1

The dangerous thing about climbing a ladder too fast is the risk of falling.

After rejoining the State Department in Washington following my assignment at the American Embassy in Bucharest, I was eager to move on up the ladder as a loyal civil servant.  Trouble was, I quickly became stuck in a dead-end position within the Bureau of Consular Affairs, widely considered a career graveyard for those wanting to work in diplomacy.

Fortunately, the State Department made it easy to transfer from one department to another, so long as you impressed someone really important and your transfer papers were stamped as “priority.”  Otherwise a transfer could take weeks or months.  I discovered what seemed to be the perfect stepping stone for career advancement — an unadvertised, newly-created position at Main State within the Bureau of African Affairs.

There was only one problem.  I didn’t know shit about Africa.

It’s the height of arrogance pretend being someone you’re not.  We all play the game from time to time, because we’re forced to.  Who among us hasn’t fibbed on a resume just a little bit or exaggerated an accomplishment with a former employer?

Trouble was, I didn’t have a clue about Africa and was about to walk into the most important office in the entire United States Government and try and sell someone on the preposterous proposition that I was qualified for a job working among the elite who had spent most of their lives studying and discovering one of the least understood places on earth.

Main State is divided by floors and by wings.  There are administrative corridors.  There are executive corridors.  There are security divisions.  There are offices of liaison with other federal agencies.  Much of one entire floor is dedicated just to communications, sending and receiving thousands of messages 24-hours-a-day to American stations abroad.  Then, there are the bureaus — which are separated by geography.  Here I was standing in the executive offices of the African wing.  I might as well have been standing somewhere in Africa.  That’s how foreign the surroundings were.

A man who did not know me, but who I knew by reputation came out from an office and greeted me with a firm handshake.  This man was a legend to insiders at Main State.  A career diplomat, he had served in several African posts and was currently overseeing the African Bureau, which meant he supervised the 54 or so desks– one representing each country in Africa.  A “desk” served as an American Embassy or mission’s lifeline back at Main State.  Small nations might have just one staffer, plus a secretary.  A bigger more important nation might have a dozen or more staffers.  You can tell how important a country is to the U.S. by counting the number of workers at Main State assigned to it.

Even though political appointees with the titles “Undersecretary for African Affairs” and “Deputy Undersecretary for African Affairs,” had the authority by rank, everyone understood they were hacks.  The real professionals who ran Main State and made the machinery run were real professionals like the man I was now sitting across from — me hopelessly trying to impress or at least make an impression.

Apparently, I had what it took to get into the office.  After all, I was being interviewed.  Now, the question was, did I have what it took to stay and ultimately get my own desk in some small corner of this vast African wing?  I’d discover this in a most humiliating manner.

The man’s office was a shrine to the mysterious continent of Africa and his experiences there over the last twenty years.  He had lived in places I’d never heard of.  He’s served in countries with names I couldn’t pronounce.

First, the man reached into his desk and pulled out a book.  It was the Koran.  He reached across his big walnut desk with a glass tabletop and slid the Koran towards me.  I picked it up.

“Have you read the Koran?” he asked.

This seemed like an odd question.  This was 1992 — long before the events we know today.  Why would I have read the Koran?

“No,” I replied, uncertain of the direction my interview was headed.

“Islam is the largest religion in Africa,” he said.  “Did you know that?”

“No.”

“Almost half the continent believes in Islam.  More than 400 million people.”

That big desk in front of me was looking even more attractive at the moment, especially as something to crawl under.  I’d clearly failed my first test.  I couldn’t even wing a half-assed answer.

Strike one.

Next, the man pointed to a large map of Africa, similar to the one which accompanies this article (see above).  All the nations in Africa were shown.  However, the country names were not listed.

“Go through this map.  Point to every country on it and tell me its name,” the man instructed.

There were 54 different nations in Africa.  I correctly identified 14. of them.  More than half came up as total blanks.

Strike two.

My third and final test was to name as many African heads of state as I could.  I struggled to name half a dozen — which were mostly all the bad guys (Gaddafi, Mugabe, de Klerk, Mubarak, etc..).

Strike three.

If there was such a thing as blowing an interview before I even walked in the door, this was most certainly it.  I hadn’t just struck out.  I couldn’t even hit a foul tip.  My appearance was shameful.

“I didn’t bring you here to humiliate you,” the man explained.  “I do this test with everyone who comes to work here.  Most people fail it.  That’s because no one knows anything about Africa — even most of the people in other offices in this building.”

The man added some encouragement that in the event I vastly improved my subject knowledge, to come and see him again.  But short of committing some basic facts to memory, it was abundantly clear that I didn’t belong working in such an important position where I knew so little.

Incredibly, over the next year or so, purely by coincidence I would interview for two more work positions related to Africa.

*     *     *

African Interview #2

In Washington, D.C., Massachusetts Avenue is known as “Embassy Row.”

It’s the long stately boulevard where the majority of foreign embassies are located.  Embassies are sometimes stacked right next to each other, with no regard to political and historical sensibilities.  Most of these embassies, particularly the larger foreign missions, hire at least one American who works in an editor capacity.  This is so official correspondence and diplomatic protocol is tailored to American readers.  The last thing a foreign embassy wants is a humiliating faux paux in an official statement or press release.  The thing is, not too many federal employees want the mark of working for another nation on their resume.  After all, taking one of these rare jobs means working for a foreign government.

By late 1993, I was gone from the State Department and was looking for a new job.  Some of the jobs I considered were with foreign embassies.

Given my work background, I was confident about getting hired.  Washington was full of eager, hard-working, bright college graduates.  But I had the advantage of a few years of service on my record, including first-hand knowledge of embassy life.

I found out about a job opening at a small embassy with a tiny staff.  I barely knew the name of the country.  But the position seemed interesting.  At the very least, this seemed like an interesting place to go interview.

After my humiliation the previous year at Main State, I was determined not to make that mistake again.  So, I visited bookstores and libraries and digested everything I could about this small nation.  This time, I would be prepared.

To my surprise, I learned this was one of the most prosperous and self-reliant nations on the continent.  Literacy was above 95 percent.  Unlike most other places in Africa, there were no starving people or droughts.  In fact, the nation had plenty of water thanks to a giant fresh-water lake amply supplied to flowing rivers.

I also learned the nation was mostly Christian.  At least I wouldn’t need to understand the Koran to work for this government.  The country was peaceful, even prosperous by African standards.  Indeed, this seemed not only like an interesting nation to work for, but a fascinating place to visit.

A few days later, I interviewed.  The staff was no more than 3 or 4 employees.  I don’t recall now, but I even think it was the Ambassador who conducted my interview.  Things seem to go well, but looking for a job is always a numbers game.  Even if you do well and make a connection, there’s always the chance some else did better.  And that’s exactly what happened.

The embassy ended up hiring someone else.  But I was still glad I went through the experience.  Being forced to go out and learn something new about a place I knew nothing about made me better for it.

Unfortunately, my story does not end there.  It ends in mass genocide.

Some months later, we began to read about this small nation in our headlines.  By late 1994, it was the top story on the evening news.  The images we saw we like nothing else we’ve witnessed since the most horrific acts of World War II.

That nation and embassy where I interviewed was — Rwanda.

Coming Next:  In Part 2, I’ll tell a story about “interviewing” with a foreign intelligence service.

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  1. The African Interviews (Part 2) | Nolan Dalla - [...] Writer’s Note: This is the second of a two-part series.  Part 1 can be read here:  THE AFRICAN INTERVIEWS…

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